Peruvian tribunal to decide fate of imprisoned American

Atlanta Journal/ Constitution -- 1 April 2001

by Mike Williams

Lima, Peru --- She began her humanitarian work at age
14, appearing in a commercial for CARE, the
Atlanta-based agency that helps poor people around
the world.

By her late teens, she was living in war-torn Central
America, working for peace and to end poverty.

But at 26, Lori Berenson was arrested in Peru for
aiding a radical group suspected of terrorist plots, then
sentenced to life in prison by a secretive military court
run by a judge wearing a hood to protect his identity.
After nearly five years in some of the harshest prisons
in the hemisphere, Berenson won a new trial when
Peru's top military court overturned her conviction last
year.

Now she is on trial again, facing a civilian tribunal that
will decide whether she is a well-meaning activist or a
committed revolutionary willing to support violence to
achieve social change.

''She's imprisoned only for her beliefs,'' said her
mother, Rhoda Berenson, who with her husband,
Mark, is anxiously watching their daughter's trial in a
cramped prison courtroom in a dusty Lima suburb.
''Lori always had a concern for the underdog. She was
always concerned that there were so many people too
poor to eat.''

Berenson's case has created tension between the Peruvian and U.S. governments
and prompting criticism from international human rights groups who say Peru's
special military courts make a sham of justice. Sen. Max Cleland (D-Ga.) was among
40 U.S. senators who called for her humanitarian release from prison last year.

Supporter of left-leaning causes

But many Peruvians believe she got what she deserved: a life sentence for helping
the Tupac Amaru Revolutionary Movement, or MRTA, which after her conviction
staged the bloody takeover of the Japanese ambassador's residence in Lima in
1996.

''The case is complicated, but she was involved with people who did very bad
things,'' said Reynaldo Sanchez, an unemployed Lima draftsman. ''What would
happen if a Peruvian went to the United States and got involved with a group
trying to overthrow the government?''

There seems no question that Lori Berenson, now 31, is an activist committed to
left-leaning political causes.

Raised by two college professors who were involved in protests against the
Vietnam War, she worked in a New York City soup kitchen in her early teens,
when many other girls her age were more concerned with clothes, dates and the
high school social pecking order.

She took part in a CARE commercial as a member of a choral group, reading a
voice-over for an ad that sought help for the world's poor children, her parents
recall.

''After she got arrested, we met with her and talked about how she got here,''
Rhoda Berenson said. ''She remembered that commercial and said the thought of
starving children still haunts her.''

History of involvement

As an anthropology student at Massachusetts Institute of Technology in the late
1980s, Berenson took two trips to El Salvador, which was then embroiled in a civil
war. Back in Boston, she worked with a student group committed to Central
America's poor.

In 1989, she dropped out of MIT and moved to Nicaragua, working with
Salvadoran war refugees. By 1992, she was the private secretary of Leonel
Gonzalez, then head of the political wing of the Faribundo Marti National
Liberation Front, El Salvador's rebel army. Gonzalez, now a member of El
Salvador's Congress, has told reporters that Berenson did only political work for
his group.

Berenson moved to Peru in 1994. Within a year, she was living with Peruvian
activists in a Lima suburb. She was arrested in November 1995 after authorities said
they uncovered a plot by the group to take over the Peruvian Congress.

At that time, Peru's government was run by Alberto Fujimori, the iron-fisted
president who spearheaded an intense campaign against Peru's two main leftist
groups, the MRTA and the Shining Path.

Fujimori instituted a special justice system for suspected terrorists, bypassing regular
courts for secret trials before military tribunals. Judges were masked because of
threats against their lives. Groups such as Amnesty International roundly criticized
the courts for their lack of due process and other shortcomings.

Berenson was convicted of treason in January 1996 and sent to a prison high in the
Peruvian Andes, where she was held in a tiny cell swept by cold mountain winds.

''For two years I wasn't able to kiss her,'' said her father Mark, who has made 44
trips in the last five years --- his wife has made 45 --- to visit his daughter in prison.
''The rule for visits was one hour a week in a dark room divided by a dark
screen.''

The Berensons eventually quit their jobs to campaign relentlessly for their
daughter's release, obtaining letters of support from dozens of members of the U.S.
Congress. The Clinton administration pressed firmly for a resolution to the case,
and the family says the new Bush administration has indicated its support.

Used as bargaining chip

Trips to Peru and legal expenses exhausted the couple's savings, but in the past
two years they have been helped by donations from the public.

Their hopes rose a little last year, when a new trial was ordered, and again in
November when Fujimori fled Peru to escape corruption charges. The Berensons
believe Fujimori turned their daughter into a political puppet, holding her case as a
bargaining chip to use with the U.S. government, which became critical of his
human rights record in his final months in office.

With Peru holding new presidential elections April 8, the Berensons hope for a
change in the justice system that could help their daughter and thousands of
Peruvians imprisoned for political activity. But they are aware their daughter faces
long odds, as polls show a majority of Peruvians believe she collaborated with
terrorists.

''She wants to win over the hearts and minds of the Peruvian people,'' said Mark
Berenson. ''They need to see her for the true person she is, and not this picture
the prosecutors have painted.''

But Lori Berenson's unyielding commitment to her principles may be hurting her
cause before an unsympathetic Peruvian public and her judges. She is widely
remembered for a scene just after her conviction when she told television
reporters: ''There are no criminal terrorists in the MRTA. It is a revolutionary
movement.''

Claims questioned by judges

In the drab courtroom where she is now on trial on the reduced charge of
''terrorist collaboration,'' she sat quietly last week but spoke firmly in fluent Spanish
when questioned by one of the judges. The proceedings --- which may drag on for
months --- have been broadcast live on Peruvian television.

Prosecutors have asked for a 20-year sentence. The three-judge panel has
peppered Berenson with questions about her activities in Central America and
seems dubious of her claims that she wasn't involved in rebel military planning.

In interviews and letters over the years, Berenson has denied knowing that her
Lima housemates were rebels planning terrorist activities. But she also has
remained adamant about her convictions. She turned down an offer by the
Peruvian court to admit guilt or apologize, a move her parents support.

''It makes no sense to us to apologize or confess to something she didn't do,''
Rhoda Berenson said.

If Lori Berenson has gotten depressed or disillusioned during her five years in
prison, she hasn't shown a hint of it to her parents.